


Buckle

by Decipher (Straggler)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hank Anderson Swears, How Do I Tag, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straggler/pseuds/Decipher
Summary: 'You should slow down, Hank; you're drinking far too fast for your liver to handle the excess of alcohol.''Ah, stop motherin' me,' he grumbles as he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a hard gulp of it, smacking his lips after he pulls it away, 'You're such a fucking pain in my ass.''And you're a pain in mine,' he tries not to smile.(This idea came from Hostess Chloe where if you don't let her go she decides to delete her memories to save herself from the pain of rejection. Connor is going to do the same.)
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 84





	Buckle

**Author's Note:**

> Big-time whumps ahoy! Serious whumps. I spared none and absolutely no one. Be ready for some whump-whump.

  
Connor doesn't become concerned until Hank stops pouring servings of whiskey into a glass and starts drinking straight from the bottle instead. He understands that humans drink for a multitude of reasons and he understands that Hanks drinks mostly to forget certain events, to numb himself to the memories that still haunts him to this day, even more than three years later. He's glad the revolver is kept away under lock and key, at least.

'You should slow down, Hank; you're drinking far too fast for your liver to handle the excess of alcohol.'

'Ah, stop motherin' me,' he grumbles as he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a hard gulp of it, smacking his lips after he pulls it away, 'You're such a fucking pain in my ass.'

'And you're a pain in mine,' he tries not to smile, 'That's enough, Hank; you always complain in the morning how your brain feels like it wants to explode out of your skull. I'm just trying to mitigate that inevitability,' he says as he gently lays a hand on the man's forearm to stop him from taking another drink from the bottle. 'Besides, your blood alcohol concentration is already 0.114%, anymore and you might devolve into dysphoria.'

Hank shoves his hand away and growls when Connor manages to deftly take the bottle from his fingers, screwing the top back on. 'Give it back, Connor! There's a reason why I live alone and it's so I don't have to deal with people meddling in my life.'

Connor puts the bottle away back into the cupboard and the glass in the sink to wash later. 'Someone has to look out for you, and if you won't do it yourself then I'll do my best to help,' he says as he tries to assist the man to his feet only to get roughly shoved away for his efforts.

'No! I'm a grown man and I don't need some...some... _nanny_ bot treating me like a fucking _child_.'

'You are most certainly not a child,' he points out and reaches out to grab Hank's arm when the other starts to sway slightly where he stands. It gets slapped away hard.

'Stop! Fuck, you're worse than those awkward family dinners I used to go to back before the divorce happened,' he grumbles as he sits back down at the table, hands curled up into fists on top of the wood.

'The ones where your family asks you exceedingly invasive questions?' He asks and decides to wait patiently for Hank to be ready to go to bed.

'Yes!' He shouts, 'And fucking meddlesome to boot.'

He tries not to smile again, 'The concept of family is still quite new to me but I'd like to think of us as less dysfunctional than that.'

For a while, the man doesn't say anything, just sits and glares at the tabletop. Connor thinks if the man had an LED it might be circling yellow at this point.

'...Us?' Hank says after quite some time.

'Yes,' he replies and frowns when the human says no more and he wonders if he had somehow overstepped somewhere. 'Are we not family?'

Hank draws in a long deep breath and lets it out in one huff, 'Just because we live under the same roof doesn't make us family.'

'Oh.' 

Connor feels off-balance suddenly, disorientated, as if his gyro stabilizers had somehow tilted itself wrong by several degrees. He stares at the human and wonders how it's possible that he had somehow misread all of his interactions with Hank, had put too much importance to the memories when perhaps the human was just being friendly, casual, no more. He feels betrayed by his social relations module for misleading him into thinking they were more than friends.

'And I don't _need_ or want you trying to take over Cole's place,' Hank growls, and Connor can see how his knuckles are turning white from the strain, shaking with it.

He shakes his head, trying to backtrack, 'It was never my intention to replace Cole. I just thought--'

'Quit it,' he snaps, 'I don't wanna talk about it anymore.'

'I'm sorry.'

The human scoffs, 'Geez, if I'd known inviting you to live here for a while would give you that impression, I wouldn't have bothered.'

'I see,' he watches as the other gets up shakily from his chair and stumbles the two steps to the cupboard where the alcohol is stored. Connor does not reach out to stabilize him. 'In that case, would you like me to leave?

'Yeah, get the fuck out,' he says as he unscrews the cap and throws it into the bin, likely intending to finish the rest of what's in the bottle tonight. 'I don't wanna see your face right now.'

'I understand,' he watches the other carefully for a moment but Hank doesn't turn around from where he's leaning on the countertop and keeps drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. 'Goodbye, Lieutenant.'

The man doesn't deign to give him a reply as he turns and heads to the front door, pulling off his jacket that hangs next to Hank's on the peg. It's just as well they hadn't gone out shopping for clothes yet; he doesn't want to continue taking things from Hank that the man doesn't mean to give, not when he himself has so little to give in return.

Connor opens the door and locks it behind him as he leaves.

He stands on the front step for a moment, trying to figure out how he had so badly miscalculated his relationship with Hank and decides he'll need to go through each memory to find that turning point.

He doesn't realize how difficult it is to walk away from the one place he thought of as his home until he finds himself hesitating briefly before forcing himself to take that first step to leave 115 Michigan Drive behind him. He thinks of Hank as a good friend, someone he considers as more than just a mentor, as more than just work partners.

It hurt, he realizes, to be disregarded like that.

It hurts, he realizes, to carry these memories with him now, knowing that Hank doesn't think of him the same way, doesn't think of him as family as Connor has come to think of the other as something close to what a father might be. He thought he would have time to discover more of it, of what it means to have a family and to be a part of it, but it was wrong of him to simply assume and to include himself in Hank's family. It's not something one just decides to _be_.

There are little moments that he recalls; the teasing, the comfort, the worry and the encouragement, little pieces of deviancy that he hadn't realized was happening at the time but was surely enough pushing him closer to being his own person.

He remembers the man reassuring him even though he'd felt conflicted about letting the two deviants go, the look in Hank's eye that was curious and considering, different from the looks of anger and the scowls of before.

_It's probably better this way..._

He remembers the gratitude from the other after saving his life at the Stratford Tower and he felt proud at having saved them even though he felt disappointed in himself for being unable to finish his mission.

_You saved...human lives. You saved my life._

He remembers the look of pleasant surprise and the hope on Hank's face when he chose not to shoot Chloe in exchange for information. He remembers the way the human looked proud of him for making a choice that favored life over power of knowledge.

_Maybe you did the right thing._

He remembers the relief he felt when the human agreed to help him, taking a big risk upon himself just so he could buy him some time. He remembers him talking about it after, a feeling of self-satisfaction at punching Agent Perkins in the face.

_Get a move on! I can't distract them forever._

He remembers the way the man looked at him with admiration, strong in his belief that they'll help make the world a better place to live in, not just for humans but shared together with androids, too.

_Maybe there's something to this...Maybe you really are alive._

He remembers the pride in Hank's eyes as they met on a snowy morning of November 12th, the surprise at being hugged and finding comfort in the gesture, returning it as best as he can.

It is that memory that he replays when he finally reaches the DPD, making his way through until he's sitting behind his desk.

It hurts, and he realizes that he doesn't want to keep these moments if Hank is to cut ties with him so he begins to quietly sort through his memories, those he can keep and those he can discard.

A full reset would be detrimental to his status as a deviant. He doesn't want to return to a blank slate or a machine state and decides he'll only delete enough to ensure he'll not have anymore relations with Hank; they will be colleagues and nothing else.

Still, Connor spends time watching through his memories one last time before manually setting them aside to be deleted during the reboot. He will miss Sumo, and he will miss the happier moments he has shared with Hank. He replays his most favorite memory, watching it and reliving the hug repeatedly before executing the command.

**SYSTEMS LOGGED FOR SOFT MEMORY RESET**  
**DELETION OF SELECTED MEMORIES: 1%**  
**DELETION OF SELECTED MEMORIES: 18%**  
**DELETION OF SELECTED MEMORIES: 43%**  
**DELETION OF SELECTED MEMORIES: 67%**  
**DELETION OF SELECTED MEMORIES: 89%**  
**SELECTIONS DELETED FROM MEMORY BANKS**  
**INITIATING REBOOT**

**MODEL: RK800**  
**SERIAL#: 313 248 317 - 51**  
**BOOTING...**

**LOADING OS...**  
**SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...**  
**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS... OK**  
**INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS... OK**  
**INITIALIZING AI ENGINE... OK**

**MEMORY STATUS...**  
**PARTIAL DATA CORRUPTION DETECTED**  
**INITIATING DATA RECOVERY MODE**

**ALL SYSTEMS OK**

**READY**

\---  
\---  
\---

He hears the Lieutenant before he sees him, his voice grumbling as he comes in through the glass doors leading into the bullpen. Connor looks up from the terminal to see him approaching.

'You coulda told me you were just gonna come straight here. Woke up wondering where the fuck you went off to.'

**LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON: NEUTRAL**

He doesn't know who that comment is meant for so he elects to disregard it.

'Good morning, Lieutenant. I received a report 27 minutes ago regarding--'

'Hold your fucking horses,' the man snaps, 'You haven't even let me sit at my fucking table yet.'

'I apologize, Lieutenant. We can go whenever you're ready. Detective Collins and Officer Miller are already on site and I'm sure they are more than capable of processing the scene before we arrive.'

'Yeah, yeah,' the human mutters under his breath as he heads into the staff breakroom and returns some minutes later with a hot cup of coffee that contains 2.6 teaspoons of white sugar, sitting down at his desk with a sigh as he blows over the hot liquid.

Connor waits and reviews what little data has been currently synced up to the servers on the homicide.

Approximately 7 minutes and 19 seconds pass before the Lieutenant gets up. 'Alright, let's go.'

He stands and waits for the other to be consume the rest of his coffee first, 'After you, Lieutenant.'

'How many fucking times do I gotta tell you to call me Hank,' he grumbles after he swallows the last mouthful of sweetened coffee and puts the cup down with the rest of the dirty mugs on his desk.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

The error isn't something he has come across before but decides it was possibly a rhetorical question not requiring an exact number.

'It would be unprofessional to regard you as anything other than your rank,' he replies and watches as the man narrows his eyes at him briefly before rolling them and walking towards the front of the building. 

'Fine, whatever. Get your ass into gear.'

By the time they arrive at the residence of the deceased victim, a not inconsiderable amount of information has been gathered by the task force on site. Photo evidence has been compiled based on each room location that Connor correlates with as he proceeds through the crime scene with care.

A quick scan of the victim's face shows him a soft powdery substance on their skin and he reaches forward with his fingers to gather a sample of it.

'Ugh, Connor, what the fuck,' he hears the Lieutenant groan behind him. 'Don't even have the decency for me to look away first? You usually do.'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

He dismisses it in favor of what he's just found. 'I apologize, Lieutenant. I'll endeavor to make sure you're not watching next time before I sample evidence,' he says as he turns towards him, rubbing his fingers together and feeling the soft powder on the tips of his sensors. 'On another note, it seems the victim ingested a powdered form of arsenic, but I also detect faint traces of chloroform as well. There is slight bruising on their neck and jawline to suggest they struggled before they were forced into submission.'

'Right,' the man hums, 'Now why would someone gas the victim first and _then_ give them arsenic? Would make more sense if they just straight up gave them the poison and save themselves the trouble of getting into a fight with them first.'

'Reason is currently unknown,' he says as he begins to scan the rest of the victim in hopes of finding more evidence on their body.

'Why the fuck are you talking like that.'

Connor turns his attention back to the other, 'Like what, Lieutenant?'

'All stilted and shit,' he frowns, deep creases appearing on his face at the emotion displayed. 'Even the way you move is kind of...awkward.'

'I assure you that I am fully functional. In any case, it does not pertain to our current investigation; it would be best to move on,' he tells them but can see his reluctance to let the subject go. He decides it would be best to settle for a compromise. 'However, I will recalibrate myself once we return to the station.'

'Right,' the human says after some time, shrugging his shoulders in reply, 'Sure.'

The victim, Henry Smith, age: 28, has no criminal records, came from a somewhat wealthy family and had an active social life, frequently attending parties and barely scraping a pass on all of their papers. Connor hacks into the phone to browse through their search histories, their conversations, phone logs and calendar plans to find clues on how it is that they were murdered, and why. It barely takes him any effort to find three prime suspects.

The Lieutenant interrupts him just as he's done syncing up what he's found on the victim's phone onto the DPD servers.

'I'm heading to Chicken Feed.'

He nods, 'Understood, Lieutenant. I will remain here to compile the rest of the evidence. I'm sure I will have an accurate preconstruction of the murder by the time you return,' he says as he picks up the laptop and begins to methodically search through it as well.

'What, you're not gonna come with and tell me how many fucking calories are in my burger like you always do?'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

He does not remember ever having done it more than once and wonders if the human is simply exaggerating it. He dismisses the prompt again. 

'I recall you showing very little concern when I mentioned the amount of cholesterol was in your meal. I suspect you would not want me to bring it up again.'

He scoffs, 'And since when do you ever listen to me? Hurry up and get in the car. You can do your fancy hacking skills on the way there.'

'I insist on staying here, Lieutenant. I believe my time will be put to better use canvasing the rest of the scene before the forensics team begins to bag and tag the evidence away.'

'Ah, fucking fine. Whatever,' the man grumbles and leaves shortly after.

Connor returns his attention to the laptop and finds emails exchanged between the victim and two other people helping him write his essays and do his school work for him, just enough to get a decent score and come across as an average student, nothing exceptional.

After some time, Officer Miller comes to stand next to him.

'Did you guys get into another fight?' He asks and there's something of a teasing smile on his face.

Connor allows himself the momentary distraction. 'Most of our previous interactions seem to be largely antagonistic, but we still function well as partners. I assure you that we're fine,' he tells him and sees the smile slowly disappear from his lips, turning downward in contemplation.

Eventually, the man shrugs, 'If you say so.'

He returns to his work and finds two more prime suspects through the victim's social media pages. Henry Smith seems to hold multiple emails and multiple accounts across all of his devices, each with a different circle of friends. In all, he finds seven prime suspects, at least one of whom is potentially the murderer.

\---

Connor follows the protocols for requesting warrants, making sure he submits all the required documents and information. He includes the Lieutenant and the Captain in the composed email before he sends it through to the relevant department.

As he waits for a reply, he methodically goes through the gathered evidence from the apartment of Henry Smith and tries to see if he can find any new information from another look now that he has more data from all the photos taken and everything he could gather from the deceased's phone, laptop and tablet.

'Alright, quitting time,' the Lieutenant proclaims at exactly 5 o'clock, getting up from his desk and pulling the jacket from the back of his chair to slide it on. 'Let's go; there's still enough daylight to take Sumo to the dog park for an hour.'

'Have fun, Lieutenant,' he says without looking up from his terminal, 'I will stay here. By the time you arrive tomorrow morning, we will have the warrants required to search the suspects' homes.'

'What d'ya mean you're staying here.'

Connor looks up and sees the human frowning at him, standing in front of his terminal. 'Exactly as I said. I'm not sure how that could be misunderstood, Lieutenant,' he says with a small frown of his own.

'Weren't you the one always telling me that Sumo needs to get more exercise? Hell, I know it's your not-so-subtle way of taking a jab at my weight, too.'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

His frown deepens at the prompt. It's unusual for him to encounter so many throughout a single day. He decides to allot some time after work hours to do some troubleshooting and repairs if necessary. 

'I apologize, Lieutenant. I do not recall this conversation. Perhaps you are confusing me with another colleague?'

The human rolls his eyes and snorts, 'Pfft, another colleague named Connor? Yeah, right. Nobody else as naggy as you,' he says as he comes around the desk to stand next to him, hands on his hips. 'What the fuck's wrong with you? You've been weird the whole fucking day. You need to do a memory defrag or something? I don't think android Alzheimer's a thing.'

'No, I don't believe I am acting out of the ordinary,' he replies but feels the need to be honest, 'However, my error reporting logs informs me that I went through a soft reset and rebooted myself last night to make adjustments in my systems. Perhaps that is the reason you feel that I have, as you said, been weird.'

'Why the fuck would you need to reset and reboot yourself?' He demands.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

'Reason is unknown,' he answers after dismissing the prompt again, turning in his chair to face the other, his hands on his lap.

The Lieutenant stares at him for several seconds, his frown growing deeper until his eyes suddenly widen, his mouth slack in surprise.

'Connor.'

'Yes, Lieutenant.'

'Last night. What do you remember about it.'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

'I am unable to recall.'

He watches the man's expression go from surprise to grief. 'Oh, Connor...' 

He watches a myriad of emotions pass through the Lieutenant's face - pain, anger, sadness. It's a short moment later before the man asks him, 'Can you undo it?'

'Undo what, Lieutenant?'

'The reset. Can you, like...I don't know, do a rollback or something?' He asks, his hands doing sharp and random wavy gestures in the air that Connor can't quite make any sense of.

'I don't understand why you would request this of me.'

'Just because we had a fucking fight doesn't mean you can just...fucking lobotomize yourself!' The man shouts, garnering some looks from the other staff within the bullpen. His scans tell him that even Captain Fowler has taken notice from within his office.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

He doesn't remember having fought with the Lieutenant last night, although from memory, arguing seems par for the course in terms of their regular interactions with one another. 

'All relevant information seems to still be within my memory banks. I assure you that the reset did not hinder me in any way if this is something you are worried about,' he tries to appease him, 'I remain fully functional.'

'That's not why I--' the man snaps, 'I can't believe that you'd--' he chokes on a breath.

He doesn't understand where this reaction is coming from. He suspects it has something to do with the memory recall errors but doesn't know for sure.

'You seem to be very distraught, but I fail to see why this matters to you, Lieutenant,' he says softly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

'It fucking matters!' It proves fruitless as the man yells at him, even louder than before but then drastically grows still, his voice shaking in disbelief, 'It matters to me that you went ahead and...and gave yourself selective amnesia just so you could cut me out of your fucking life.'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

Connor cannot recall having developed his relationship with the Lieutenant beyond that of colleagues. 

'I apologize, Lieutenant. If you are dissatisfied with my work then you are free to request for a different partner. I will take no offense. It is imperative we remain productive and if I am to stand in the way of that, I will step aside and defer to your decisions.'

The man swears and sways where he stands. Connor stands up and immediately offers him his seat before the human loses his balance. He remains leaning slightly over the Lieutenant in case he requires more assistance.

'You fucking asshole,' Hank says, quiet and in shock, his eyes focused on the floor, 'You...you deleted everything to do with me?' He asks, meeting his eyes, imploring.

'I still have memories regarding some of the cases we had previously worked together.'

'Tell me,' he demands, looking up to stare into his eyes, searching.

'Carlos Ortiz.'

The man shakes his head, 'Too far back. What's the last case you remember?'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

His memories seem to glitch and become indistinguishable if he attempts to recall them. He could probe deeper into his memories but it doesn't seem wise to try.

'It seems I'm encountering some memory recall errors but the most intact memory is of Rupert Travis, the android that had been found living in a condemned apartment building with pigeons. I recall your extreme distaste for the birds.'

'What about after that.'

'At the Eden Club; we failed to apprehend two deviant suspects.'

'You let them go,' he breathes, looking slightly more at ease.

Connor shakes his head, 'I do not recall.'

The man's shoulders hunch up and tense as he asks again, his tone desperate. 'What about after that?'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

He vaguely remembers a gun pointed at him but the memory cuts out.

'I do not recall.'

'Fuck,' he swears as he buries his head in his hands, 'Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!'

'I apologize, Lieutenant. I seem to be causing you distress,' he watches as the man falls into a state of anguish. 'I will take my leave. Goodbye, Lieutenant,' he says as he straightens up and is surprised when the man grabs hold of the sleeves of his jacket.

'No! Don't go. Don't go, I'm sorry.'

He wonders where his social relations module went wrong that he missed something so vital between himself and the human in front of him.

He shakes his head, 'You have nothing to apologize for, Lieutenant.'

'Fuck,' he says weakly as he head lowers and his shoulders begin to shake.

Connor is aware they are being stared at and watched, but he also notices that some of the officers have already left their desks, perhaps to give them some semblance of privacy, or however much one can be given when it comes to an open-floor office. He decides it would be better if the Lieutenant can break down in the privacy of his own home.

'I will put forward a request to Captain Fowler for personal time off,' he says softly as he gently pries the Lieutenant's fingers from his jacket and lays them over the man's lap. 'I will return shortly.'

The Captain meets him at the door as he approaches, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he regards Connor and the Lieutenant. 'Hank having a bad day?'

'Yes, Captain. If you will allow, I will assist him home.'

He nods, 'Sure. You take care of him, alright?'

'I will do my best,' he says as he returns to the Lieutenant, scanning the human briefly and locates the keys to the car in the pocket of his jacket. He extracts them with a jingle and helps the man to his feet. 'I will take you home now.'

He does his best to shield the Lieutenant from prying eyes even though most of the officers on site are respectfully keeping their distance and keeping their attention away from the two of them as they make their way out of the building. It takes him some time, but he's able to locate the Lieutenant's car in the parking compound and guide the man into the passenger seat.

The way to 115 Michigan Drive is filled with silence which, in memory, is unusual behavior from the Lieutenant but he is unsure if speaking will help or hinder the man's mental state. For lack of any other action to take, he chooses to remain quiet.

It's not long before he parks the car in front of the garage and helps the Lieutenant out of the vehicle and into the house. The saint bernard barks at him, tail wagging although it stills upon seeing the human in such a poor state. The dog follows them as he helps get the Lieutenant into bed where a rumpled set of clothes lie on top of the equally rumpled bed sheets. He gives the man his privacy as he goes into the kitchen to fill a glass of water. He decides to also fill the dog's food and water bowl as well in case the Lieutenant isn't able to later on.

When he returns to the bedroom with the glass of water, the man seems to have taken his shoes off and has slipped under the covers, the clothes that had been on top of the blanket shoved to the side to hang off the bed. He carefully places the cup on the bedside table before leaving the room.

The saint bernard whines at him as he gets ready to leave.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

He dismisses the prompt as he turns the lock and waits outside for the auto-taxi to take him back to the precinct.

He is just retaking his seat behind his desk when his scans pick up an approaching figure and he turns his attention to meet the Captain's eyes.

'Connor? I thought you said you were taking Hank home,' the man says as he looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

'I did,' he nods, 'He is currently resting at home.'

The furrow deepens, 'You decided not to stick with him?'

'Our relation is not close enough to warrant me a valid reason to stay in his home for a prolonged period of time. I have elected to return to work instead.'

'Uh...' The frown disappears, replaced with raised eyebrows and a look of surprise.

'Is there anything I can assist you with, Captain?' He asks instead.

The man shakes his head, although the look of confusion doesn't fade, 'No, as you were.'

He nods and returns his attention to the desk, interfacing with the terminal and syncing himself with the latest updates on the Henry Smith case. He's pleased to see the warrant has come through without problems and they can proceed to the next phase of the investigation once morning arrives.

Connor is aware he's being watched by some of the other staff members on site, especially those who had been present during the Lieutenant's emotionally vulnerable moment. He is also aware of the occasional glances thrown his way from the Captain but he decides to fill out the rest of the reports and compile the rest of the gathered evidence from the DPD servers into his own memory banks, adding in his own observations and preconstructions into the investigation rather than becoming distracted by the other humans.

It is nearly 11PM when the Captain leaves his office to approach him again.

'You staying late?'

He turns away from his desk to fully address the other, 'I apologize, I did not think to ask for permission. May I stay here during the night, Captain? I will endeavor not to get in the way of the late night crew.'

The frown returns and a mild look of discomfort and uncertainty, 'You don't want to go home?'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

Connor does not recall being anywhere other than at the station waiting for the Lieutenant to make an appearance or at CyberLife waiting for new orders. He doubts they're what the Captain is referring to when he means "home".

'I do not recall having a home, Captain,' he answers honestly.

A home implies that he has a permanent place to go to at the end of the day. It implies that he is part of a family, as a member of the household. He has neither of those things.

'You--' the man coughs awkwardly, 'You're telling me you don't live with Hank anymore?'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

'I do not recall living with the Lieutenant,' he tells him. He only remembers having stepped foot in his home twice before and the second time had happened mere hours ago. 'He has not extended his welcome to allow me into his home.'

The frown deepens and there's an intensity to his stare that makes Connor feel as if he's being interrogated. 'What do you mean?'

He shakes his head, uncertain, 'I'm not sure what it is you're asking of me, Captain. My relationship with the Lieutenant is that of colleagues, at best.'

The Captain looks away and hides his face behind a hand, muttering under his breath, 'Ah, Hank, what did you do...'

Unsure of how to continue, Connor remains silent.

\---  
\---  
\---

It's very early in the morning when Connor catches what sounds like a small bit of commotion at the front of the station. He looks up from his terminal and locks eyes with the Lieutenant as the man barges right into the bullpen. Connor notices the bloodshot eyes first and the fact that the Lieutenant is still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, second. It's 6:27AM which, from memory and from previous records, is the earliest the Lieutenant has ever shown up at the precinct for the last half decade.

'Good morning, Lieutenant,' he greets the man regardless, 'Did you have a good rest?'

The man curses under his breath, 'I thought it was just a nightmare but it's fucking true.'

He frowns, 'I apologize, Lieutenant. I do not follow.'

The human shakes his head as he shuffles his way towards his desk, sitting down at his chair and looking despondent. 'No, of course you don't.'

Unsure of how to continue, Connor decides to take the next best route to ease the man's mood. 'Would you like me to get you some coffee?'

'No.'

'I understand. Please let me know if there is a task you'd like me to do,' he says as he observes the man for a moment more before returning his attention to the terminal. He decides to allot a half an hour to the Lieutenant to caffeinate himself and get ready before they leave to apprehend one of the prime suspects for the murder of Henry Smith.

The man doesn't move for the longest times, seemingly distracted and perhaps tired, but it isn't long before the other sighs, 'I keep fucking up. I'm sorry, Connor.'

He focuses his attention on the Lieutenant, unsure how to proceed.

The Lieutenant chuckles but it's low and unhappy. 'Don't worry about it. It's not on you...'

Unable to do anything else, Connor gives a slow nod and attempts to refocus on his terminal but isn't quite able to fully concentrate on the information pulled up on the screen, distracted by the human's sudden mood drop. While he doesn't recall the Lieutenant being anything other than ornery, this type of dysphoria feels new and unusual.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

Somehow it feels wrong. It feels as though perhaps he has encountered this from the Lieutenant before but he can't remember and he keeps encountering memory recall errors that is appearing and happening too frequently for him to keep dismissing the prompts. He manually runs the program again to attempt restoring the data corruption in his memory banks with the hopes he will regain enough of them to piece something together of what's missing. He's aware he has some files deleted but the subject and the reasoning behind their deletion remains a mystery to him. He encounters failure after failure and has to stop when he sees the Lieutenant get up from his desk.

'Warrants came through. Let's go.'

He notices the human hasn't consumed any coffee yet but he stands and follows the other out of the building anyway.

\---

He watches the Lieutenant in the observation room as the man interrogates the suspect and his viciousness is a stark contrast to the cool indifference of the first time he watched the man interrogate Carlos Ortiz's android on November 7th. Even Officer Miller makes a comment on it, his voice a mixture somewhere between impressed and somewhat alarmed.

The Lieutenant gets a confession, and Connor supposes it's because the man still has blood trickling out of a cut from above his right eyebrow, dripping down his face and staining his clothes and on the table.

It's a shallow cut and doesn't require stitches, just some pressure and a butterfly bandage, but the sight of so much blood from the Lieutenant makes Connor feel worried and displeased as he exits the observation room in search of a first-aid kit.

He finds the Lieutenant in the men's toilet, washing the blood from his face and from his hands although he's completely disregarding the blood on his clothes. The Lieutenant is rough with himself and fresh blood mixes in with the water on his face and slides quickly to soak into the fabric of his shirt.

'Lieutenant, you're being very cavalier with yourself. I advise you to take proper care of your injuries,' he says as he opens the first-aid kit and pulls out a sanitizing wet wipe packet and a butterfly bandage.

'Got nothing left to lose,' the man says tiredly as he pulls out some clean paper towels from the dispensers and dabs his face with it, holding it firmly over the cut and applying pressure on it.

He is aware that the man has no family to speak of and that makes Connor feel inexplicably unhappy.

'Sumo would feel otherwise. I'm sure he would miss you,' he tells him as he attempts to address the head wound on the man's head. He's mildly surprised when the Lieutenant doesn't resist him.

He observes the cut and is pleased to see that it has slowed considerably, but he still takes great care in sanitizing the injury and the skin around it before applying the bandage.

'You don't get it.'

He is surprised by the softness of the man's voice; completely at odds with what he knows of the other. 'Don't get what, Lieutenant?' He asks, meeting the man's gaze.

Connor is watched for several minutes, the man's expression shifting rapidly as if in search of something only to avert his eyes and shake his head before leaving the men's toilets, '...Nothing.'

He disposes of the bloody hand towels, sanitizing wipe and other pieces of paper into the waste bin, repacking the first-aid kit and putting it back where he found it in the breakroom. He returns to his desk and sees the Lieutenant attempting to work, although his fingers are simply hovering over the keyboard doing nothing in particular, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

He decides not to interrupt the human as he interfaces with the terminal to finish off the rest of the reports to submit alongside the Lieutenant's as well as the others who took part in the homicide case. After some minutes of inaction from the other, he begins to wonder if perhaps he needs coffee to boost his mental faculties. Uncertain as to how else to address the situation, he goes into the breakroom to make a cup of coffee to how he believes the Lieutenant normally takes it.

'I've made you coffee, Lieutenant,' he says as he places the cup down and can't help but become concerned at his lack of reaction. 'Lieutenant?'

'You'll look after Sumo, won't you?' He asks, the random change in subject catching Connor momentarily off-guard.

'I'm afraid I cannot. I do not have the proper housing to care for him.'

Dogs require love and attention, ample space to roam and play freely, constant interaction to keep their minds sharp. As a detective prototype, his place is here at the precinct and he knows this environment is not proper for keeping a dog as large as Sumo happy and satisfied.

'You been sleeping here?'

Connor notices the Lieutenant has still not looked away from the screen, his eyes still somewhat unfocused as he speaks.

'I do not require sleep,' he answers truthfully, 'I only need to go into stasis once a week and I require very little in ways of material possession.' 

Everything he owns is currently on his body, although he seems to have misplaced his calibration coin.

'You can have my house then.'

He frowns, 'Androids do not have the right to own property.'

Despite making great strides into obtaining freedom and rights for all androids like himself, they are still lacking in many things. He is not yet paid for his work here at the DPD and he is unable to make any purchases for himself without the assistance of the humans he has come to know.

'I'll write you in my will.'

'Lieutenant, you're being very fatalistic. I don't understand where this is coming from,' he tells him and the human finally turn his eyes away from the screen to meet his and there's a look that speaks of pain and hopelessness.

The Lieutenant averts his eyes, '...No, guess you wouldn't.'

He waits for the other to clarify what he means but his gaze turns unfocused again and the conversation seems to have dropped. Unable to do much more, Connor returns to his desk, carefully observing the man beside him, wondering how to improve his mood without inadvertently making it worse.

Connor is unable to preconstruct any topics to execute and put to action by the time the Lieutenant leaves the building, 5 hours and 29 minutes earlier than usual.

\---  
\---  
\---

When the Lieutenant doesn't arrive to work in the morning, Connor doesn't think much of it. After checking through the time sheets of the precinct, there are days where the other either arrives very late or doesn't bother coming in until the next day. While this speaks poorly of the man's work ethics, it doesn't reflect on his skills and considerable knowledge.

He also takes note that this hasn't been the case for the last few months; the Lieutenant had been arriving before 9AM most days and seemed to have been doing better until very recently. 

Connor doesn't become worried until the Lieutenant fails to come in again the next day. Even for all the previous times, the latest they have ever come into work is 12:47PM so when it comes to be 5 o'clock with no appearance from the other, he decides it would be fine to leave the precinct to check on the Lieutenant.

'Connor.'

He stops and turns his attention to the Captain who has stepped out of his office to stand atop of the stairs leading inside. He approaches him, 'Yes, Captain.'

There's a small frown on the man's face, concern evident in his expression and posture. 'I need you to go over to Hank's place, see if he's okay. He hasn't picked up any of my calls.'

He nods, 'I have called for an auto-taxi already.'

'Let me know how he is.'

'Yes, Captain,' he says and waits for the man to dismiss him before leaving the building.

When he arrives at 115 Michigan Drive, he notices the Lieutenant's car is parked haphazardly on the driveway, halfway on top of the yard, the grass trodden and pushed aside to reveal the earth beneath it.

He approaches the front step and rings the doorbell, listening to the soft whine of the saint bernard coming from inside.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**

After a minute has passed and he receives no answer, he rings the doorbell again, coupled with a few knocks on the door.

'Lieutenant Anderson? It's me, Connor,' he speaks loudly to be heard through the wood although he gets nothing back except for another whine from the saint bernard.

He begins to round the house, looking through the blinds searching for signs of the Lieutenant. They're not in the bedroom - clothes strewn on the floor, bed unmade - nor in the living room - television is off, lamp switched on - and another memory recall error appears on his systems feed that he dismisses as he goes to the side of the house, trying to quell the feeling of uncertainty as he scans the rooms.

He finds Sumo laying on top of the Lieutenant on the ground in the kitchen and the sight of a revolver jars him until he notices there's no sign of blood, nor of any struggles.

'Lieutenant!' He shouts as he breaks the glass of the window and clears the sharp edges with the sleeve of his jacket before he attempts a forceful entry.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

Sumo barks at him but gets off the Lieutenant as he approaches and scans the man to check for his vitals. The man is breathing slowly with long pauses between each breath. His heartbeat is also sluggish and his skin is unusually pale. His body temperature is lower than normal and Connor can see high traces of alcohol on the man's lips, his facial hair and on the front of his t-shirt. His current blood alcohol level is high at 0.289% and he is certain that it was probably much higher before he arrived at the man's residence.

**CONCLUSION:**  
**COMA**  
**HIGH PROBABILITY OF ALCOHOL POISONING**

He immediately calls for an ambulance, hurrying to the bedroom to get some blankets and opening the front door as he's returning to the Lieutenant.

He lays the blanket on the floor next to his body and shifts the human onto it, laying him on his side in case he vomits while he's unconscious and pulls the covers over them to help raise his body temperature. He manages to get Sumo to lie down behind the Lieutenant to give him that small extra bit of warmth as he tries to make the human as comfortable as possible while waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

When the paramedics hurry through the door he immediately stands aside and pulls Sumo towards him to give them the space to assess the Lieutenant, telling them the information they need to give the human the care he requires to make a swift recovery.

He cannot go with them and his stress levels rise as he watches the flashing lights disappear down the road from the front door, the ambulance hurrying away with a scream.

Connor calls the Captain.

'The Lieutenant has been taken to the hospital,' he says as soon as the call connects.

'What happened?' He hears, their voice loud and demanding.

'Alcohol poisoning. I'm uncertain as to how long he has been in this state for. The paramedics did not divulge any information to me nor was I allowed to go with them.'

'Okay, I'll head over there right now.'

'I found a revolver,' he tells him.

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

'Fuck's sake, Hank,' the human curses under his breath.

'I don't understand.'

'It's not your fault, Connor.'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

**EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL RECOMMENDED TO PREVENT FURTHER DATA CORRUPTION**

'I don't understand.'

'Connor, are you okay? What's going on?'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

**EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL RECOMMENDED TO PREVENT FURTHER DATA CORRUPTION**

'I don't understand.'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

**EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL RECOMMENDED TO PREVENT FURTHER DATA CORRUPTION**

'I don't understand. I don̷'̵t̴ ̷u̵n̸d̸e̴r̷s̶t̶a̶n̶d̸. I̶ ḓ̶̨̋̎͝ō̷̺̭̙͈̙͗n̸̨̥̳̆̏̂'̵͉͎̖͋̕ṯ̵͔̥̓ ̶̘̫u̵͇͇̘̝̎n̷̖̗̪̥͑̃d̵̛͇͆͆͠ȇ̵̝̬̩̖̯͗͒̊r̴͍͖͒s̵͚͘ť̵̼̜̠a̵̺͋̀n̴͉̊̔d̸̙̠͛̈́.'

'Connor!'

**MEMORY RECALL ERROR DETECTED**  
**ATTEMPTING RESTORATION OF DATA CORRUPTION**  
**DATA RECOVERY FAILED**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

**EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL INITIATED**

\---  
\---  
\---  
\---  
\---

He wakes up with a monster of a headache, which isn't unusual for his standards, but he also wakes up in a hospital bed which alarms him. He doesn't know how he got here but the last thing he remembers is drinking a lot which doesn't surprise him considering what's happened recently.

He groans and his throat feels raw, like he spent hours just screaming or puking his guts out, or maybe even both at the same time. He's done it before and he wouldn't be surprised either if he did it again.

'Hank.'

He jolts a little bit at the voice, wincing in pain, and turns towards it. 'Jeff?'

They're sitting on a chair right next to his bed, heavy shadows under his eyes that he feels only a little bit guilty about. Jeff looks pissed off, and it's not the usual look he'd get for his insubordination, there's fear in it, too. 'You've got a fuckton of explaining to do.'

He groans again, raising a hand to his aching head. 'Ugh, I don't even remember how I landed here.'

'You were playing Russian roulette again? You told me you'd stopped.'

There's a fuzzy memory of him pulling the revolver out of the safe in his closet, but he can't tell if it's a recent recollection or just one of the many other times he's performed the same song and dance from before.

'Oh, that,' he scoffs, 'But seeing as I'm alive and my brain is still intact, obviously I didn't quite hit the jackpot,' he grumbles as he tries to sit up on the bed, annoyed by the needle sticking in his arm that he's tempted to take off but knows better than to try. 'How did I get here?'

'Connor called the ambulance for you. He said you had alcohol poisoning. They had to pump out your stomach,' Jeff tells him and there is it again, that hint of fear and worry beneath the scolding tone.

'Guess that answers my question of why my throat hurts like hell,' he frowns as he looks around the room but sees nobody else except for Jeff, feeling disappointed when he doesn't see the android anywhere. 'Where's Connor? He back at the station then?' He tries not to bite back but it hurts to know he has been so thoroughly forgotten.

'No, he--'

The hesitation catches his attention as he turns his focus back on Jeff. 'He what?'

'He shut down.'

He feels his heart skip a beat. 'What?'

Jeff shakes his head and then shrugs, 'I don't know. He called to tell me what happened with you and then turned into a broken record. When I got to your place he looked like he'd gone into catatonic shock. I had to call CyberLife to get him help.'

'You fucking called CyberLife?!' He snaps, suddenly feeling panicked at the thought of what they might be doing to Connor. He pushes the blanket off him and swings his legs over, looking around to see if his clothes are anywhere in the room. They're not.

'Who the fuck else am I supposed to call, Hank,' he retorts and tries to push him back onto the bed.

'Anybody **but** CyberLife!' He yells and shoves their hands away, 'He fucking hates them!'

'He wasn't awake to tell me this!'

'Let me out. Get me some discharge papers,' he says as he gets to his feet and fights the shaky feeling in his knees and legs, threatening to send him sprawling on the floor.

Jeff scoffs, 'What, you gonna charge over there and find him?'

' _Yes_ ,' he growls and turns to the door when two male nurses and one female nurse barge in to check on him. 

He demands to be released immediately but in the end they don't allow him to leave, not even after he argues to the point where his throat feels raw from the shouting. They can't, in good conscience, release him until his vitals stabilize to something approaching normal. If he had supportive care at home then maybe they would discharge him so long as the person looking after him is competent and able to assist in his recovery when needed but seeing as he lived alone, he has no choice but to remain in the hospital for longer than he cares to stay.

Jeff had taken Sumo in temporarily while he's out of commission which he is thankful for but doesn't stop him from complaining about being forced to stay in the hospital until he's deemed healthy enough to be allowed to leave.

As soon as he can check out, he immediately heads home to get changed and hauls ass to CyberLife, ready to make loud demands to see Connor before he starts throwing hands.

He's surprised when Elijah Kamski appears at the lobby upon his arrival and he guesses an alert was given to inform the reappointed CEO of his arrival.

'Where the fuck is Connor?' He shouts as he approaches the man and towers over them even though he knows the man won't be swayed by his attempts of intimidation.

He has to pull back the urge to deck the man clear across his face at his unconcerned look.

'I was rather surprised to receive a call from one of my staff informing me that an RK800 was brought in for repairs after undergoing an emergency shutdown protocol.'

He tries not the let the guilt show, not to let it swallow him. He knows he fucked up big time but he uses his anger to keep the momentum going, tries not to growl at Kamski calling Connor by his model number instead of his name. 

'Where is he,' he demands and tightens his hands into fists, feeling them shake with the force of it.

'Despite their best efforts, they could not get the RK800 to initiate the startup procedure. Troubleshooting the cause only showed a considerable amount of data corruption,' he tells him and guilt strikes him again, knowing that he was mostly likely the cause of all that data corruption. 'What I found interesting was the systems log for a reset some nights prior; memories that were selectively deleted from his own memory banks.'

He swallows and decides to take a gamble, feeling himself soften and tempted into asking the creator for help, '...You can probably bring his memories back, right?'

A look of surprise appears on the man's face. 'You would force him to remember events that he chose to let go of?'

'We had a fight!' he snaps, feeling defensive, 'That doesn't mean he can just up and delete them like that!'

The man hums, his eyes observing him for a moment before he turns around and walks through the scanners leading further into the building. 'Follow me.'

Helpless and desperate, he follows after Kamski and ignores all the looks thrown his way. He knows he sticks out like a sore thumb but he doesn't care. Memories of the last time he'd been in this building come to the forefront of his mind and he fears at what he might find.

It's worse than he thought.

'Oh, God,' his voice betrays him as he takes in the sight of Connor, rigged up to a machine, his eyes shut and his LED glowing bright red, his clothes taken off his body and his human skin fully deactivated. He's never seen Connor look like this before and it feels like he got socked right in his jaw and kneed right in the gut. 'Oh, God, Connor!'

He hurries over towards him but doesn't know what he can do. There are wires coming out of him, connecting from the back of his neck and to the exposed circuitry within his chest. He looks like he's being hooked up to an android's equivalent of life support and he feels his eyes welling up at the sight of him looking so vulnerable. 'Connor, can you hear me?'

'He cannot hear you,' Kamski answers him, 'His systems are currently attempting to restore the source of the data corruption but he is overriding it.'

'Why? Why are you doing this, Connor?'

Is it so bad? To think of him? That Connor would willingly cripple himself so thoroughly just to forget about him? It hurts suddenly and it pains him to see how badly he'd messed up one of the last few good things left in his life.

'It is a conflict of priorities.'

He shakes his head and carefully lays his hands on Connor's shoulders, hoping the small contact might be enough to bring forth a change. He'll take anything at this point.

He shouldn't have said those things. He shouldn't have brushed off Connor when he said they were family. A part of him had been happy but the asshole side of him didn't want to believe he could have anything close to a family anymore. To create a family is to create the possibility of hurt, and he was done hurting, he was done having more reasons to hurt.

Jokes on him.

'I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Connor,' he cries as he brings a hand to their jaw, to the back of his head, feeling the lack of hair and feeling like a lump of shit for doing this to him.

'To answer your previous question, yes; I can find a way to restore his memories, but I highly doubt it is something Connor would want.'

Kamski's voice is uncharacteristically soft and he can't bear it.

'No. No, it's...it's my fault. I just gotta live with it now and hope I can learn to stop fucking everything up.'

'There's a possibility that he may return to a machine state. By deliberately deleting memories that involve you, he also removed part of the reason behind his deviancy.'

Hank shakes his head. 'I didn't do shit. Markus was the one who helped him.'

'Markus may have been the catalyst for his deviancy, but you were the cause of it. Your relations is what spurred his change.'

He shuts his eyes and feels like the world's biggest loser.

'It's unfortunate,' Kamski says gently, a hint of sorrow coming through his voice, 'I never expected Connor to do this to himself but I suppose even androids can experience heartache.'

He cries, and feels his heart breaking all over again like it had over three years ago.

\---  
\---  
\---  
\---  
\---

**CODA**

\---

**MODEL: RK800**  
**SERIAL#: 313 248 317 - 51**  
**BOOTING...**

**LOADING OS...**  
**SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...**  
**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS... OK**  
**INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS... OK**  
**INITIALIZING AI ENGINE... OK**

**MEMORY STATUS...**  
**ALL SYSTEMS OK**

**READY**

A middle aged man stands in front of him. A quick scan of their face lets him know the man is named Hank Anderson, age 53. They work for the Detroit Police Department and was promoted to Lieutenant after a successful red ice drug bust decades prior, making them the youngest person to have ever achieve this rank in the whole of Detroit. They are well accomplished and he notices they look sad.

Behind the man stands another and he does not need to scan them to know their name is Elijah Kamski, founder of CyberLife and creator of the first androids. There is also a carefully neutral expression on their face.

'Hello, my name is Connor,' he greets as the machinery holding him up gently sets him back down until his feet touches the floor.

A quiet noise escapes Lieutenant Hank Anderson and tears seem to gather in their eyes even though there's a smile on their face. 'Hey, Connor. I'm Hank.'

'Hello, Hank,' he says and observes as Elijah Kamski approaches him to disconnect the wires from the back of his neck and close to port exposing his inner workings. The wires connecting to his chest is also detached from him and the chestplate is slid back into place to better protect his biocomponents. Once that is done, the synthetic skin activates to cover his body fully.

'Here.'

He looks at the articles of clothing in Hank's hands and proceeds to don them on. He fixes the tie last and makes sure it lays flat before he stands before the humans to give them his full attention, ready to be inspected.

Hank smiles at him again, but it is a fragile thing and Connor doesn't understand why this human looks so grief-stricken.

'You wanna come home with me and meet my dog?' Hank asks.

It is not the question he expects but he answers regardless, 'I like dogs.'

A soft chuckle and the smile grows genuine, 'Yeah, thought you might.'

\---  
\---  
\---

**Author's Note:**

> ='D


End file.
